MAKING LOVE TO BUDDY GUY

to our gasping waltz. Buddy’s left eye on me is milky, starved, 

so oddly unmoored, hooch-fused. His gut beneath my hand is

an errant gush of rivers. I trace shake down the sudden raised 

               

Make me lose my power?

I don’t think you ever could

Make me lose my power?

I don’t think you would or could